A Royal Pain (Montrovia Royals Book 1)

by Kit Kyndall

  “Underwear is in the next drawer over.”

  She gritted her teeth at the helpful information as she opened the drawer and stared down at the largest collection of undergarments she’d ever seen. He must’ve had two hundred in the space, and she quickly selected a plain white pair before closing the drawer firmly. She held out the underpants to him. “Can you do these yourself?”

  He was clearly enjoying watching her squirm when he shook his head. “I’m too tired. Swimming yesterday took a lot out of me.”

  Oh he was going to be tired, she vowed to herself. After putting her through this, she wasn’t going to have any mercy on him when it was time for his physical therapy. She wouldn’t push him past the point of his own endurance, but she wasn’t going to baby him either after this stunt. Not that she would have anyway, since that wasn’t her style. Sometimes, patients needed to be cosseted, but more often, they needed to be pushed.

  Pretending like she did it every day, she knelt down on the floor and tugged his towel free. Since his legs were still wet, she quickly dried them for him before sliding his underwear on his feet and up his calves. She paused at the knees and looked up at him, studiously avoiding looking at his cock. “Can you lift your butt?”

  He managed to heft himself a few inches, and she was able to slide the underwear into place. It was only then that she allowed herself to look down, and only briefly. The choice of white underwear proved to be a bad one, she quickly realized. He must have still been damp, so the material was now moist and clinging to the outlines of his erection, reminding her how big it was. She hadn’t seen it, and she probably never would, but she was getting an even better eyeful than yesterday’s pair had provided.

  She avoided looking at his gaze as she moved hers down to his feet and repeated the process with his gym shorts. It was practically impersonal by the time she got to her feet and helped him put on the shirt—at least she told herself that as she ignored the rush of warmth between her legs. Plastering on a professional smile, she looked down at him. “Would you like breakfast in your room, or outside, or somewhere else?”

  “In here is fine. Order us something.” For someone who was exhausted from the shower, he certainly moved his chair quickly enough as he backed out of the closet and didn’t wait for her assistance.

  She moved out of the room behind him and crossed to the phone on the table. If it was like the one in her room and Tucker’s, it connected directly to various departments in the house. She chose the kitchen and quickly relayed Bennet’s order, and then paced as she waited for it to come.

  She made a concentrated effort not to look at him, since the one time she had done so, he’d been so unbearably smug that she’d almost wanted to smack him. It was a relief when his tray arrived, and she didn’t join him as he sat at the table to eat. Instead, she read the paper, which was in British English, since that was Montrovia’s national language.

  After he was finished, she pushed the chair out of his room and down the hallway to the therapy room. She had taken a quick tour of it on the day of her arrival, and it had everything she had requested, along with a few things she hadn’t. It was definitely top-of-the-line, so the working conditions couldn’t have been what drove away the other two physical therapists. That had to be Bennet, and she could see why they had fled.

  Harper moved him to the rowing machine and positioned his chair in front of it before bringing the paddles closer so he could grab them. “You know how to use this machine?”

  He nodded, looking irritated. “I’m familiar with it. It was one of the Dragon Lady’s favorite tools of torture.”

  She kept her voice gentle when she said, “It’s important to keep your arms strong, since you’re going to need them to do so many tasks. If you want to maintain your independence, along with pushing your chair and functioning in your daily life, you’ll need upper body strength.”

  He pursed his lips, but didn’t reply as he grasped the paddles and started turning. He was going too quickly and expending too much effort, but she didn’t rebuke him. It was a win that he was even doing it, so they could work on his technique after he grew more comfortable with the sessions.

  When the timer stopped at six minutes, he quickly dropped the paddles and pushed back before rolling his chair a few feet away. It became obvious that he was heading for the door, and she moved to block his path. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m done for the day.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You aren’t done yet, Your Highness. There’s still a lot of work ahead of you, and the longer you delay, the more function you lose. If you had applied yourself, you’d be farther along on the path now. There’s only a small window of opportunity after a spinal injury to regain your mobility, and you’re wasting precious time that you could be using to get more functional.”

  He mimicked the way she was holding her arms across her chest as he glared up at her. “I’m not wasting my time with this foolishness.”

  She frowned. “Don’t you want to regain as much functionality as possible?”

  “Of course I do, which is why I’m going to Switzerland next month to meet with Dr. Rhodes.”

  She frowned. “Who is Dr. Rhodes?”

  “He’s the head of a research program that has made fantastic strides in helping people with paraplegia and tetraplegia.”

  “How does he do that? How did you hear about it?”

  “He uses stem cells and neural implants.”

  She tried to hide her skepticism. “I’m familiar with the theories and I’ve read some of the research papers, but it’s an emerging field. You can’t—”

  “I can. Come with me.”

  She followed in his wake as he turned the wheels of his chair with such ferocity that she was almost surprised they didn’t leave grooves in the antique Persian carpet. He veered into his room less than a minute later, and she followed him down a hallway she had not yet taken, and into another room that revealed a sleek office with the latest equipment.

  When he went to his desk and turned on his computer, a huge screen on the wall projected his desktop. She watched without comment as he opened his email and pulled up a correspondence. Her cheeks filled with heat as she read the first few intimate lines from someone who was clearly very familiar with Bennet’s body. “Who is Celeste?” Her voice sounded thick and unnatural to herself, but she hoped he didn’t hear the difference.

  “An old girlfriend. She’s the one who told me about Dr. Rhodes.” As he spoke, he clicked on the hyperlink in the email, and the Internet page opened to reveal a sprawling clinic in the picture with a picturesque background with towering mountains and glittering snow. He immediately went to the research tab, and she quickly read all the information available.

  She wasn’t any more confident in the program working when she had finished, but she at least had gleaned enough information that she thought she could gain his cooperation. “It certainly sounds like it’s worth trying, but did you see the part where participants need to be in top physical shape?” At his reluctant nod, she pressed home the point. “That means they want you to be as far along in your own progress as possible, so you can get the maximum benefit from the stem cells and neural implants. Full benefit of the program.”

  His frown furrowed deep ridges in his cheeks. “I know what you’re saying.”

  “Does that mean you’ll work with me to get you into top shape so you can get the most out of your experimental treatment?”

  Still looking reluctant, he finally nodded. “I suppose.”

  She ignored his lack of enthusiasm and gave him a brilliant smile. “Great, then let’s get started again. We have a lot of work ahead of us, especially if your appointment is in just a few weeks.” She hoped it didn’t prove to be a futile attempt for him, but if it was enough to fire him up to work harder now, that would prove useful in its own right.

  Chapter Four

  Heavy breathing woke her, and she immediately recognized it as a sound of p
ain. It was coming through the intercom system, and there was no question about the source. She slid from bed and didn’t worry about changing out of her sleep shorts and T-shirt as she slid her feet into slippers and rushed from her room to Bennet’s.

  She found him quickly, and in his bed, as expected. He was curled up into the fetal position as much as possible, and his face betrayed agony. Lines bracketing his mouth spoke volumes, and concern filled her. There was also a rush of tenderness she was unaccustomed to feeling for a patient, and she tried to push it aside as she moved closer to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  Even as she asked, she realized he was having an attack of spasticity. His muscles were tensed, and his legs were stiff before him. Since he was lying on his side, it made it easy to get on the bed behind him and start rubbing his back in slow, deep circles. “Does that help?” Sometimes, it was difficult to identify the source causing his muscles to tense. It could be a faulty processing of signals from the spinal column to his brain, or it could be the muscles themselves reacting to disuse. When he shook his head, she could hear him clenching his teeth so hard together that they were grinding, and the sound made her shudder.

  She moved from his back to his legs, going to the source. His thighs were clenched under her hand, while simultaneously spasming. Slowly and carefully, moving with firm strokes, she started working on the muscles to get them to relax. It was a long and tedious process, but she lost herself in the rhythm of the massage as she read his signals and listened to his breathing change.

  Gradually, his body relaxed against her hands, and the attack of muscle spasms seemed to be fading away. She continued massaging him, moving her hands farther down his legs. He was no longer trembling and stiff, but she couldn’t seem to stop touching him. When she stroked down his calf, he groaned, but it was a different sound than his earlier cries of pain.

  For a moment, she wished she had all the long hair she had recently cut off to hide behind as she looked up at him, her hands continuing to massage his calves. “Is that better?”

  He moaned again, and the sound conveyed far more pleasure than pain “A lot better,” he said in a husky voice. “You certainly do that better than Tucker.”

  She laughed. “He’s not very good at massages, is he? He either massages too firmly or not firmly enough.”

  He stiffened under her hand, and for a moment she thought the spasms were returning. She renewed her efforts at massage, but he remained stiff, and she glanced up at him, poised to ask if something was wrong.

  “How do you know what kind of massages he gives? Did you go to the same school?”

  She hesitated. “Sort of. I went to the same university as he did, but a few years behind him. He was in his last year of residency at the hospital, and I was about to enter my clinical internship for physical therapy when we met.”

  His lips pursed. “You dated Tucker?”

  He sounded jealous, though she was certain that couldn’t be the case. She was either projecting, or perhaps she just didn’t know him well enough to read the finer nuances in his voice. “We were engaged for a while.” His muscles definitely tensed further, and he jerked upright until he was supported on his elbows.

  He was glaring at her. “You were going to marry Carlton?”

  The sudden downgrade from his first to his last name surprised her, and she wasn’t entirely certain why he was acting the way he was, unless she had been correct: Jealousy. “It just didn’t work. He wanted to do a stint with Doctors Without Borders, and I needed to settle down and start practicing. We were missing something in the relationship, and we drifted apart.” Trying to change the subject, she asked, “How did you meet Tucker? He never really told me that story. He just called me out of the blue one day and said he was going to be the private physician for the Montrovian royal family.”

  It took his muscles a moment to relax, and he still seemed to be faking it as he slowly let himself drop against the mattress again. She forced her hands to move from the leg she’d been holding as she scooted higher up the bed to look down at him. His cheeks were flushed, and she reached out without thought with the back of her hand to feel his forehead. “No fever,” she murmured.

  He ignored the hint of mother-henning from her. “I met Tucker cliff diving in Hawaii.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. It sounds like just the sort of thing he would do. Did you get hurt?”

  He lifted his hand to show her a scar down his hip. It was faint, but visible, and she leaned a little closer. “I hit some rocks on the way down, and Tucker was there. He stitched me up, and we hit it off. We ended up spending the rest of our vacation together hanging out.”

  She clicked her tongue while imagining what hanging out would have meant to single young men who weren’t attached. She hadn’t had time to do much research about the royal family, but even before she’d taken the job, she had heard about the Playboy Princes. Both Bennet and Asher had a reputation for being womanizers.

  “He was between assignments when I offered him the job, and he took it.”

  “I’m glad he was already your friend and physician when this happened. It makes it easier, since you have trust with him.” Harper licked her lips. “That’s what I’m trying to build between us too. I want you to trust me, Your Highness. I only want what’s best for you, and I have good intentions, I promise.”

  He looked a little uncomfortable. “I know that, but you’re still here against my wishes. I already told Tucker and my brother that I’m going to do Dr. Rhodes’ program. I really don’t see the need to have you here.”

  “But you promised you’d cooperate with me,” she reminded him.

  He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’ll try, and I’ll even try to trust you, but I’m not making any promises.”

  She patted his thigh before pulling her hand away as though she had been scorched. She’d come awfully close to touching him in an inappropriate area. “I just want you to try. It’s truly all I want from you, sir.”

  “I guess you should call me Bennet.” The offer seemed to be grudgingly made, but she recognized it as an olive branch.

  “Thank you, Bennet. I should let you get back to sleep now, because you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

  He groaned, and that sound was one of pure torture. “Are you always a bloody slave driver?”

  She gave him a cheerful smile. “I’ve been accused of that more than once, I’ll admit.” At his disgusted look, she gave a genuine laugh as she stood up and moved away from the bed, and the temptation lying there. “Feel free to call me if you need me, Bennet.” His name felt strange on her lips, but she was certain the more she said it, the more comfortable it would feel.

  If he hadn’t been the younger prince of a royal house, she doubted she would have had any difficulty using his proper first name. Under the circumstances, it felt almost too intimate, as though she was behaving inappropriately with a patient. Knowing she had skirted perilously close to doing so with him on a couple of occasions might have made her more sensitive to her behavior and emphasized just how personal it was to use his first name.

  “I don’t plan to call you again, Harper.”

  She shrugged, not feeling hurt. If he hadn’t been in such intense pain, he wouldn’t have betrayed it through the intercom, knowing she was the one who would come to help. She tried not to take that personally, since she was certain Bennet resented her presence there as a physical therapist, not her as a person.

  “Good night.” He muttered something, and she left the room before making her way from his suite to Tucker’s across the hallway. Once the door was closed behind her, she let her professional mask slip away as she sighed. As much as she wanted to help Bennet, she was afraid she might not be able to. It required a certain level of separation, and an ability to maintain distance between them. She was starting to fear that her ability to do so was crumbling before her.

  ***

  Bennet’s entire body ached with exhaustion, and h
e should have fallen right to sleep as soon as she had left. That was his experience after previous episodes of spasticity. Instead, though he was physically worn out, his mind refused to shut down. It wasn’t just his mind keeping him awake. He was up in more than one way, and the lingering scent of her in the air didn’t help pull his thoughts away from where they had strayed.

  At first, her touch had been a welcome respite, and he hadn’t given much thought to who was massaging the pain from his spasming muscles. It could’ve been anyone, even Barret’s cold personal assistant, and he would have welcomed the assistance. It was only as the pain faded that his body started to react to Harper in a different way.

  He could say with confidence he’d never had that reaction from anyone else who’d massaged his muscles during spasms. His muscles were now loose and far less painful, but he was still hard and aching. What was she doing to him? He still found her far too average compared to his usual supermodel-type girlfriends, but there was something compelling about her that drew him in.

  And after seeing her in the bathing suit yesterday, he knew she wasn’t as shapeless as he had assumed from her loose clothing. That explained his lust for her, but he was still puzzled as to why he wanted to get to know her better. He didn’t have to know a woman to sleep with her, and of course he couldn’t start anything with the physical therapist with whom he had promised to work to make as much progress as possible before his appointment with Dr. Rhodes. That would be foolhardy, if he was really going to commit himself to the treatment. Perhaps it was the hint of taboo about the whole thing that made her so appealing? Knowing he couldn’t have her made him want her more.

  Maybe. He could freely admit he was often shallow in his interactions with the opposite sex. Her unattainability might have been part of her lure, but that didn’t explain the fierce jealousy that had swept through him when he’d realized she had been Tucker’s fiancée. Surely they had shared a bed, which meant his friend had once had the right to touch her creamy skin, to feel all the dips and curves of her body, and to taste every creamy inch of her flesh.